


Mademoiselle Marinette

by chatstronaut



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, actual canon confident Marinette, alya is the ultimate bff, blog au kind of, ladrien is going to happen don't you worry, reveal fic maybe?, style icon au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chatstronaut/pseuds/chatstronaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ladybug has always been lucky...Marinette not so much. It's her final year in high school, a time when every choice seems to determine your future, and Marinette is ready to take hers into her own hands. Armed with a newly minted fashion blog and her best friends by her side, Marinette plans to make her mark on the world...if only her luck would last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mademoiselle Marinette

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a long time coming. It is based off of an au post I made about a month ago and, after some encouragement, I have decided to finally buckle-down and start writing it.  
> Many, many thanks to Kaitlin (puniful-ghoulkat on tumblr) for being my beta and to my sister Amanda (cheese-loving-kwami on tumblr) for providing me with hilarious editing notes and support. Y'all are the bomb-dot-com.

** Chapter 1 Part 1 **

**"Marinette Needs a Break"**

Marinette couldn’t deny that Ladybug had all of the luck in the world.

Lucky was an understatement when it came to her spotted-spandex-wearing, yo-yo slinging, ass-kicking alter-ego. Lucky couldn’t describe everything that Ladybug had accomplished in the past four years as the heroine of Paris.

Ladybug was luck, and she was so much more.

As Ladybug, Marinette was strong, incredibly so, and she was powerful. She commanded a room, her presence alone allowed her to lead police officers against akumas. No one could deny that she even had some influence over Mayor Bourgeois, who, on more than occasion, had consulted her on various security matters of the city. And she was only seventeen!

Outside of Paris, people all over the world knew her by name, could tell her spots from imposters. Ladybug posters and memorabilia could be found in children’s bedrooms alongside Disney princesses and Marvel superheroes. To many, the fictional character of Spiderman had nothing on the real life Ladybug.

Marinette continued to be humbled by Ladybug’s dedicated fan base. Alya’s Ladyblog was one of the most followed blogs on the internet, and the young journalist had even expanded it, adding forums and recruiting other people to help run the blog. Marinette’s life as Ladybug was actively tracked, Twitter blowing up every time someone spotted her, and it was kind of intimidating. It certainly didn’t allow for any accidental slip-ups, especially if your face-plant could end up on international television the next day.

 Marinette had never imagined that millions of people would turn to her—well, to Ladybug— for inspiration and guidance. Over the years, Ladybug had become a symbol of Paris, a beacon of hope during a time when the City of Light seemed to be plagued by a dark evil. There were still akumas and even after countless victories Ladybug and Chat Noir had yet to defeat Hawk Moth.

Nevertheless, the duo was still as strong as ever, and their dedication to keeping Paris safe had never diminished, even though the fights became more frequent. They were averaging five akumas a month, a fact that left Marinette on alert at all times. It was astounding to her that there was so much unhappiness in Paris, the supposed City of Love, but it made sense that unhappiness and stress be expected in a city that was constantly under siege. However, even when half the city was affected by the destruction and havoc that the akumas caused, the faith that the people of Paris had placed in Ladybug and Chat Noir never wavered.

Yes, Ladybug was everything to the people of Paris, but, in comparison, Marinette could hardly consider her civilian self to be lucky.

She was becoming severely discouraged from ever having anything to do with the fashion world. Marinette was just about done after a fifth fashion design contest ended in a fiasco where her winning designs had been filched by another competitor, again. Apparently when you win one Agreste competition at fourteen word gets around. _Apparently_ , not everyone played fair, even when professionalism was not only encouraged, but expected.

She would be flattered if she wasn’t so pissed.

Every time her designs were stolen Marinette managed to prove that they were hers, by providing dated photographs or by getting the competitor to confess through pressure and a teensy bit of manipulation. But each time that Marinette had to defend herself she left the competitions with a bitter taste in her mouth.

Which was why she hoped that the upcoming _La Mode Chou Chou_ design contest would be different. The prompt was simple: design a matching swim set for a mother and daughter. Make it cute, make it fun, but the designs had to be complimentary to the theme of the summer line. After a quick look through the _Chou Chou_ summer line, taking note of the pastel hues and the floral motif, Marinette drew-up designs for the matching swimsuits.

She kept her designs simplistic: the mother’s suit would be a two-piece, with a high waist bottom and supportive underwire balconette top, and the suit for the daughter would be a one-piece with a halter top. Both swims suits would be a light sage green with tiny cream and daffodil-yellow neoprene roses for accents along the straps and around the necklines. She wanted them to be cute, but also functional. What good would swimsuits be if they couldn’t be played in?

Manon and her mother even offered to model the swimsuits after they saw her designs. Marinette was thrilled to have models, and eagerly set up a photoshoot for the next day at the nearby natatorium. She would have liked to shoot the pictures along outdoors, but in the end decided privacy was a necessity if she wanted to keep the designs to herself.

Bright and early the next morning, Marinette met Manon and her mother at the natatorium, suits sealed away in a garment bag and a box of pastries fresh from the oven under her arm. She had convinced the pool custodian to allow them early access into the building before anyone else arrived, giving them free range to set up a few lights and props.

Alya had brought two of her circle lights and her camera, more than willing to help her friend with the photography so that Marinette could focus on direction. Marinette was incredibly grateful that Alya had dragged herself out of bed at six in the morning to do the shoot, and made a vow to take her out for lunch afterwards.

The photoshoot went well, and in the end there were several shots of Manon splashing around the pool with her mother.

Marinette’s favorite photo was one of Manon and her mother floating in the pool on two pink lounge floats. Their hands were linked, keeping them together, and they both had huge smiles on their faces as they waved at the camera. Marinette couldn’t have been happier with the results.

Confident that even if she didn’t win she would certainly place, Marinette sent in her design portfolio along with the suit mock-ups and the photographs.

About a week later, she received a phone call from _La Mode Chou Chou_ that had her buzzing around her room with excitement as the representative asked her questions about her designs. Tikki was observing the conversation as she munched on a cookie from her atop Marinette’s desk, the entire time thinking about how wonderful it was that Marinette was getting recognition for her work.

Her snacking stopped when she saw Marinette’s smile slowly fall into a frown.

“No, that isn’t possible,” Marinette said, holding the phone in one hand as her other ran through her bangs.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked concerned, floating over to where Marinette had stopped pacing.

Marinette held up a silencing hand as her brows furrowed in frustration in response to what the representative was saying. Tikki settled into her hair to wait.

“I can assure you that my designs are originals, Madame Beaumont.”

A long sigh escaped Marinette’s lips. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, even as Madame Beaumont continued to speak about the _procedure of things_ and make it very clear how the rules worked. Marinette assured her that _she_ knew how the rules worked and couldn’t help it if someone else cheated. She was met with a clipped tone and the request that Marinette was already expecting.

“Yes, I’ll bring the fabric receipts and any other proof you need.” Marinette affirmed. “Nine works fine—Okay, see you tomorrow then. Merci, Madame.”

Marinette ended the call and took a deep breath, her hand gripping her cell phone tightly as she tried to calm herself down. It didn’t work.

_Of all the rotten luck._

With a growl of frustration, she threw her cell phone at her chaise with such force that Tikki had to grip her hair to keep from falling off.

“Everything okay, Marinette?” Tikki asked cautiously, peering down at her charge. “Didn’t they like your designs?”

Marinette wanted to punch something.

“Oh, they loved my designs, Tikki,” Marinette answered. “And so did the girl who stole them and entered them in the contest as their own.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

Marinette walked over to her desk and began rifling through her papers, searching for the receipts whose dates of purchase would prove that the designs were hers. Her hands were erratic as they combed through the leaflets of paper that were scattered a top her desk. Tikki watched helplessly as her cookie fell to the floor with some of the papers.

“What a waste of a perfectly good cookie,” the kwami sighed, leaving her spot atop Marinette’s head to go and mourn the loss of the chocolatey treat.

“I’ll get you another one in a minute,” Marinette said as more papers fell to the floor.

Tikki let out a squeak as she dodged Marinette’s biology textbook as it came tumbling down.

Marinette whipped around at her kwami’s cry, “Ah! Tikki are you okay?”

Tikki rose to Marinette’s eye level, her antenna tweaking in slight irritation a she brushed herself off. “I’m fine, Marinette. No damage done.”

Marinette sagged in relief. She hated the idea of Tikki ever getting hurt, especially by her own fault.

“However,” Tikki continued. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t toss things around willy-nilly. I may be thousands of years old, but heavy things can still squash me like a bug.”

Marinette smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, Tikki. I’ll be more careful.”

Tikki patted Marinette’s cheek affectionately. “I know you will.”

The little kwami folded her arms and looked around at the mess that Marinette had created in her urgency.  Designs and sketches littered the floor around her desk, which was in an even greater state of disarray, and not just from her recent searching.

Throughout the school year Marinette managed to keep her room spotless, everything was organized and not a pencil was out of place. During the summer that cardinal rule was thrown out the window as Marinette spent most of her waking hours in the bakery helping her parents. When she wasn’t working, she usually spent all her free time with Alya, lounging in the parks working on designs or occasionally spending an evening at a discotheque.

Add having to save Paris from the various akumas that showed up without fail, and she didn’t exactly have time to organize her desk or fold her clothes. The only reason it was easier during the school year was because Marinette absolutely had to be on top of her schedule or risk failing her classes. Even then she had to pull all-nighters and down several cups of coffee just to make it through the day.

So the summer was when she let herself slack on cleaning, if only for the extra rest it allowed her. At the moment, as she and Tikki looked around at the disaster area that was her room, Marinette realized that that might not have been the best idea.

“Well,” Tikki said trying not to despair at the task ahead of them. “Let’s see if we can find those receipts.”

Hours of increasingly anxious, but less chaotic, searching later, Marinette finally found the receipts crammed into one of her sketchbooks.

She clutched the small pieces of paper to her chest in relief.

“Oh, thank God!” Marinette cried as fell back into her desk chair. “I thought we’d never find them.”

“Does this mean I get my cookie now?” Tikki asked hopeful.

Marinette looked out her window where Paris was lit up under the night sky. Night had fallen and she hadn’t even noticed it.

“Are you sure you want to eat this late,” she said glancing at the time on her clock. “It’s nearly twelve. My parents probably put them up hours ago.”

“Then it’ll be a midnight snack.” Tikki’s big blue eyes met Marinette’s in a plea. “Please Marinette? You promised.”

“Alright, alright,” Marinette gave in, rising from her chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Five minutes later Marinette returned to her room, a plate of chocolate chip cookies in her hand. As Tikki happily bit into one of the sweets, Marinette changed into her pajamas. Before she allowed herself to collapse in bed, Marinette began the time-consuming job of cleaning her room.

“Sometimes I feel like I have the worst luck in the world,” Marinette admitted, kneeling to gather up the papers that had fallen to the floor.

“Everyone has an off-day, Marinette,” Tikki said. “Even Ladybug.”

“But Ladybug is literally personified luck, Tikki.” Marinette sat down and tried her best to smooth out the crinkles in one of her designs. “You would think after years of being her some of that luck would’ve rubbed off on me.”

“Marinette, you’re luckier than you think.”

“ _Ladybug_ is lucky.” Marinette clarified. “ _Marinette_ is a mess.”

Marinette watched as Tikki floated down from her desk, faced her calmly, and placed her little hands on her cheeks.

“You. Are. The. Same. Person.” Tikki punctuated each word by squeezing Marinette’s cheeks.

“We’re really not.” Marinette said. “Ladybug can do anything, and I can’t even stop my designs from being stolen.”

“You can do anything you put your mind to, Marinette,” Tikki said firmly, her eyes boring into Marinette’s. “Your ambition is one of the reasons I chose you to be Ladybug.”

“I thought you chose me because I can give you and endless supply of sweets.”

“While that is a plus,” Tikki admitted with a shrug. “I chose you because there was no one better to be Ladybug.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Tikki laughed. “Will you stop your moping? I don’t like seeing you upset over nothing.”

Marinette smiled at the little red kwami. “You’re going to give me a cavity if you keep acting this sweet.”

“I’m just telling it like it is,” Tikki said returning to her cookie. “Now, I’d hurry up and finish cleaning, you’ve got a big day tomorrow. You’ve got to get your beauty sleep so you look great when you take back your designs and win the contest.”

“You think I’ll win?” Marinette stood, placing the papers on the desk beside Tikki.

“Are Chat Noir’s puns cheesy?”

“Undeniably so.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Tikki assured. “Luck is on your side Marinette.”

_Let’s hope it stays that way._

 

* * *

 

Despite Tikki’s reassuring pep talk, and despite the fact that she did win the contest, Marinette didn’t design anything for a few weeks after the swim-suit incident. Her heart just wasn’t in it. Whenever anyone asked if she had something new, she’d use exhaustion from working at the bakery as an excuse. Her mom even offered to buy her some new fabrics, which normally would have had Marinette in a state of glee, but creativity just didn’t strike her. After two weeks of loafing around her house, she couldn’t deny that she was in a serious slump.

In an attempt to cheer her up, Alya dragged Marinette out for a girl’s day.

Paris in August was blistering form the heat, but it was beautiful. The sky was bright blue, there wasn’t a cloud in sight, and the sunlight shone down with a fierce intensity that only the height of summer could bring.

Marinette and Alya were strolling contentedly down the Champs-Élysées, arms linked even though a small bit of sweat pooled between their conjoined elbows.

They were just coming upon the salon where they planned to get pedicures when a woman in her mid-twenties seated outside a café waved them over.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where did you get your dress?” The woman asked gesturing to Marinette.

The dress in question was one of Marinette’s older designs that she had made last summer. It was an aqua-blue linen slip-dress with a high neck that had a gold chain for a collar. While it was extremely simple in design, the effect was ultimately very flattering on her small frame when she paired it with a vintage gold belt she’d found at one of Paris’ many flea markets. It was of her favorite designs.

“She made it!” Alya told the woman before Marinette could get a word in.

The woman regarded Alya’s chambray shirt-dress with curiosity.

“Did she design your dress as well?”

Alya nodded. “She gave it to me for my birthday. Embroidered all of the vines and flowers herself, too.”

“I’m impressed,” the lady said.

Marinette beamed.

“She’s an aspiring fashion designer, “Alya continued. “You may have seen her designs before. They’ve won multiple contests over the years.”

The lady took off her sunglasses to get a better look at Marinette.

“What’s your name?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette replied, glad to be included in the conversation that was about her work.

“I can’t say that I’ve heard of you,” the lady said after a moment of thought. “But, I have to say I’m disappointed that there isn’t anywhere I can buy your dress. It’s lovely.”

“Thank you, Madame,” Marinette said genuinely, a barely contained smile on her face.

The woman returned her smile. “I’ll be keeping an eye out for your name in the future mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. You both have a nice day.”

Marinette clutched Alya’s arm as the two moved away from the café.

“She thought my dress was lovely,” Marinette said happily, a slight skip in her step.

Alya laughed, “Are you surprised?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Why would I be surprised? Your work is fantastic!”

Marinette playfully bumped Alya’s hip with her own. “You’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”

“I’m your best friend,” Alya corrected, bumping Marinette’s hip in return. “And best friends are brutally honest.”

Marinette let go of Alya’s arm to hold open the door to the salon.

“Your mouth does have no filter,” she said, following Alya inside, immediately relishing the cool air-conditioned air that greeted her. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“Glad I could finally gain your trust,” Alya said with a hint of sarcasm.

“You’ve always had my trust, Alya.” Marinette approached the counter and signed them on the waiting list. “It’s your judgement that is questionable.”

Alya scoffed. “Name one example.”

Marinette took a dramatic breath, ready to list off all of the instances where Alya had let her journalistic integrity take precedent over her own safety. Something that Marinette had scolded her friend about on multiple occasions. Seeing the look on her face, Alya quickly reached out to pinch Marinette’s lips shut.

“On second thought,” Alya began. “Let’s just ignore that for now and worry about getting our pedicures set up instead.”

Marinette pulled Alya’s hand off of her mouth and smirked, “Sounds good to me.”

 

* * *

 

During their pedicures, when they were left alone as their toes dried, Alya tossed Marinette a glossy copy of Vogue France, which she caught with a deft hand.

Marinette opened to the article that Alya had dog-eared. Pictures of stylish women and men gazed confidently back at her. Some of the shots were candid, taken off the streets of cities all over the world, and some of them were professionally done.

The article was on the rising trend of fashion blogging.

“I don’t know, Alya,” Marinette said apprehensively as she read through the article. “I don’t know a thing about running a blog.”

“That’s where I come in,” Alya nudged her shoulder. “I can help you set one up. What better way to showcase your designs than a blog?”

“Would you even have time?” Marinette looked at her friend. “Between school, your extra-curriculars, applying for university—not to mention the Ladyblog—your schedule’s pretty busy this year. I wouldn’t want to take you away from that.”

“Hey, none of that stuff is super important,” Alya interjected quickly when she noticed Marinette’s implication. “My best friend is priority number one.”

Marinette sighed. “Alya—“

“Marinette,” Alya reached across the space between their chairs and placed an insistent hand on her friend’s arm. “I want to help you get out of this slump that you’ve been in all summer. So we’re doing it. End of discussion.”

Marinette knew Alya was right. She needed a more positive creative outlet, something that would help her get back into the groove of designing. And she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that those contests weren’t giving her enough of a challenge. A blog would be new, it would be exciting, but more importantly it would be her own.

Marinette threw up her arms in defeat, “Alright, you win! We can set it all up over the weekend.” Alya grinned triumphantly.

“You’re going to love blogging, Mari, trust me.”

Their pedicurists returned a moment later to usher them back to the lounge to wait for their manicures. Marinette made sure to bring the magazine with her.

As soon as they were seated again, Alya burst into conversation about all of the wonders of blogging, ignoring the withering looks shot her way from peeved spa-patrons who expected peace and quiet. Alya leaned into Marinette’s side as she pointed out different things in the article, her finger tapping excitedly against the pages.

Marinette’s enthusiasm grew as Alya continued to animatedly talk about blog formats and possible design lay-outs. Flicking through the article, eyes absorbing every detail printed on its pages, ideas began to take form in Marinette’s head. It had never been her plan to design fashion just for herself. What good would be creating something if she didn’t share it with someone else?

And, as Alya had pointed out, a blog would be the best way to share her designs with the world.

Marinette had always dreamed of designing clothes for other people, and not just the underfed, rail-thin runway models that were seen everywhere. Over the years, Marinette had learned quickly that fashion designers created clothing with one kind of person in mind. Aesthetically, they designed their clothes to fit thin, tall women and men: it made the clothes look better when they were showcased down the runways or in advertisements.

Necklines and bodice shapes were crisp, clean lines against models’ bodies, easily emphasizing any embellishments or design features of the pieces. Hems flare out from waists and limbs more dramatically if there wasn’t much of a curve to compare them too.

Symmetry and perfection were everything in the fashion world.

But nobody was perfect, and Marinette didn’t want to be someone who told people that there was only one kind of “perfect.” Despite what the fashion industry tried to instill, there was more than just one body type. Marinette wanted to stretch her creativity and design clothes to fit women and men who were curvy and a petite or tall and athletic. Apple-shaped, pear-shaped, and every other fruit shape in between.

She wanted to make people feel good about themselves.

The greatest compliment that she could ever hope to receive would be if someone felt confident wearing something she designed. Ladybug inspired confidence in people around the world, and Marinette wanted to do that too, as herself.

All she had to do was put herself out there for the world to see.

**Author's Note:**

> Part Deux of Chapter 1 to come sometime after next week...due to finals kicking my butt.  
> In the meantime: let me know what you think! And feel free to chat me up on tumblr, my url is the same.


End file.
